CHAPTER NINE
My dress was a black Atelier Versace masterpiece.
Its sculpted bodice hugged my curves, with black organza swirling around me and crystals shimmering in the lace.
I spun before the three-paneled mirror, admiring the dramatic train trailing behind.
“I love it. It’s gorgeous, but how do I keep people from stepping on it? And what if I need the bathroom?”
Isla smiled. “It’ll be fine, I promise you.
I’ll carry it when you need it and style it for photos.
As for your other concern…” She walked behind me, unfastened a hidden panel, then lightly tugged the top of the full-bottomed skirt.
It came off, and she helped me step out of it, revealing a wide, long silk skirt that was just as incredible as the dress.
My jaw dropped. “Wow. That’s so cool.”
“Yep. Before the dinner, we’ll change your outfit so you can relax.” She motioned to the makeup artist and stylist, who swept in to perfect my hair and finish my smoky eye and glossy retro look. I caught my reflection. A Gothic princess come to life, and I adored it.
“Would you like a photo for Cassidy?” Isla offered.
“Yes, I would. Thanks,” I said and posed with my hands on my hips. “Do you know anything about the event?”
Isla took a few pictures, then typed on her phone. “Sending it to you… It’s a private event that’s only for top fundraisers. This year’s theme is the Emotions of Art: Crafting Emotions.”
I held the fabric steady as she refastened it. “Hmm. That does sound intriguing.” Painting had always been my secret language, a way to pour out feelings when words failed me.
“I believe so, and it helps support the museums. This one tonight will start with a viewing of David. There’ll be a small chamber orchestra that’ll perform Puccini.
Oh, and Rocco’s cousin’s wife, Bianca, an opera singer, will perform, I believe, the prime minister’s favorite, Puccini’s ‘Musetta’s Waltz,’ from La Boheme. ”
“Oh, that’s one of my favorites, too. So, what are they like?”
“Bianca? Stunning, strong, and unfiltered. She’s very gifted.
There are three of the most gifted sopranists: Maria Callas, Diana Damrau, and Bianca Rossi.
Every time she sings, I get chills,” Isla gushed, and it was so nice to see her express herself; it was clear Isla was a fan. “What about Lorenzo?”
Her cheeks pinked. “He’s a beloved conductor. Kind, flirtatious, but in a teasing way. So, nothing to worry about.”
I blew out a breath in relief. “Thanks for the heads-up.” Having Isla as an insider gave me something that I knew Rocco would dismiss if I asked him.
Rocco as a celebrity would need to shine tonight, and as Rocco Marini’s wife, the pressure was even greater.
He was still a popular celebrity, and the press loved to write stories about him.
Isla stepped back and scanned over me, smiling. “Perfect. We must go.” She handed me my phone to add to my handbag. There was already a message from Cass.
Cassidy: You look stunning, gorgeous. My God, that dress is to die for.
Adelina: I love it!!! But I’m nervous about the press.
Cassidy: Just smile. Rocco will never let anyone upset you, and Isla will move you on as she did for us last week. You got this.
I hoped she was right. Digging through my bag, I searched for my favorite gloss to tuck into my tiny clutch, needing a little extra confidence for the night ahead.
“We have to go, Adelina. The Tourism and Arts Board only has a short window of time to film at the museum.” She then motioned to her assistants. “Magda will be upstairs shortly.”
I closed my bag and followed her out the door.
We descended the stairs, and at the end of the hall, Rocco stood talking with Zane.
When he turned, my breath caught. He was always handsome, but in his tuxedo, he was breathtaking.
My heart raced as I neared him, his hand reaching for mine.
I slipped my fingers into his, and he bent to kiss me.
Our lips lingered, smiles blooming as we parted.
“You look stunning, Bella. But something is missing.”
I blinked. “What’s missing?”
Isla came to stand next to him with two of the velvet cases from earlier. Rocco opened one of the cases and revealed large diamond earrings.
I shook my head. “This is too much.”
“Not at all.” His fingers brushed my earlobes as he placed them in my ears. Our gazes fused. “It’s not possible to make you more beautiful.”
My face flushed warm. “Rocco,” I drawled out.
“I speak the truth,” he said, then opened the large box, and I was speechless.
He held up a stunning, two-tiered diamond and pearl necklace.
Isla lifted my hair, and he placed it around my neck, his fingers infusing his touch into every jewel and on my skin.
“You’re more precious, my wife. Nothing can harm you.
Nothing can stop you. I won’t allow it.”
My heart swelled, and I leaned up and pressed my lips to his, whispering, “I love you,” against them.
“I love you more,” he whispered back and grasped the back of my head and kissed me intensely, branding me in a way that I felt even after we had left the estate for the car. There, I hesitated and touched Zane’s arm next to the open door.
“I’m sorry, Zane. I told Rocco it was all my fault,” I blurted, and swallowed hard. I hated that I had gotten him in trouble.
“Thank you, Adelina,” he said kindly.
I took his hands and squeezed them. “I’m truly grateful to have you here with us.”
He smiled broadly. “I’m happy to be here.”
Rocco squeezed my waist, clearly pleased, but I had done it because it felt right. Zane and everyone on our team was exceptional—like my dear Maggie and even the security guard I hadn’t met yet. Unlike Nico, who was nothing but cruel. “Rocco?”
He turned his head, grinning broadly, and I didn’t want to spoil it with more bad news. I’d get to it later.
“Nothing…I’m excited.”
“Good. That makes me happy.”
And that was what I wanted to protect and keep at all costs.
As we approached the city center, excitement shimmered through me.
Florence’s ancient stones, sweeping arches, and ornate arcades never failed to leave me awestruck.
This city was more than a backdrop; it felt like a piece of my soul, as if I belonged to it and it to me.
Maybe fate had drawn me back. Rocco was woven into that magic—part of why I had fallen for Florence in the first place.
Art had always been our language. Nearing the Uffizi Gallery, I imagined our ghosts, hand in hand, reliving the morning we first made love and the moments that followed.
“What are you thinking about?” Rocco asked.
I grinned. “What?”
“You look like you’re glowing.”
“Glowing?” My brows raised.
“Yeah, beautiful, relaxed, calm. It’s…refreshing.”
“I guess I learned from someone I know to take the happiness as it comes.”
“Good,” he said and kissed me.
The evening had brought more tourists to the heart of the city. While some museums were closed, many eateries and venues would keep it busy well into the night.
The Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze was ahead on the narrow street, with security blocking off an area in front of the stone building.
Rocco lifted my hand and kissed it. “This part of the event is for a short film. You stay with me and don’t answer any questions.”
I smiled. “I can handle that.”
“Great.” He switched his focus to Isla. “You know what to do.”
“You can count on me,” Isla said.
Zane opened the car, and Isla got out first, followed by Rocco, who received cheers and calls of his name, and then me.
We quickly made it inside the building, and I was surprised by the size of the space.
We walked up to a small crowd dressed in suits and formal wear, just as we were, and a camera crew was waiting to film.
When we joined them, the crew started filming a man at the front of the hall, whom I understood to be the prime minister.
“David has been a part of our home since 1890, and it will be its home forever. We feast here with an abundance of art. That’s why Florence is still a thriving center of the arts and culture. Our arts and tourism welcome thousands to the galleries every year.”
A gentle, candlelit glow bathed the room, setting a tranquil stage for the masterpiece ahead.
My heart thudded faster as we drew near Michelangelo’s David, the statue rising before us like a marble god.
His powerful form glowed in the light, radiating an energy that felt almost spiritual.
Was it blasphemy to think a statue like this could be worshipped?
Yes, it’s the very definition of blasphemy.
Yet, there was something divine in its raw humanity, a beauty that held me spellbound.
I traced every detail: the elongated limbs, the oversized hands, the veins carved with impossible delicacy.
His face, so alive with tension, furrowed brows, and flared nostrils, spoke of fierce determination.
David was never meant to win by strength alone. The real battle was always one of will.
“How like a god,” I whispered, thinking of Hamlet’s soliloquy.
Rocco squeezed my hand. “Yes, Adelina. For Hamlet, knowledge overwhelmed him, but he understood the power, just as David did. David is the beauty of reason.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. David knew he wouldn’t win by brute strength. He uses the power of his brain.”
“That’s why his head, his mind, is large,” Rocco added. “Knowledge wins. Men have so much of it, beauty and reason. We have the choice of what to do with it.”
“You’re so sexy when you talk about art,” I said, grinning.
“So are you, Bella.” He leaned close and kissed my lips. A flash of light reminded me that we were being filmed and photographed. Once we all had our moment with the incredible piece, Rocco approached the prime minister, and I shook his hand and his wife’s.
“Our new Marinis. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you,” we both said to him.
“I had been looking forward to the wedding at the castle. I even skipped a few meals to feast at the reception,” the prime minister mused, and we both laughed.
“Perhaps we’ll have a reception at a later date,” Rocco said.
“Well, be sure to include me,” he said. “I’m sorry about my dear friend Luca. Please tell your family that we have you and all in our prayers.”
Rocco placed his arm around me. “We most appreciate it.”
I nodded in agreement.
Then we posed with him in front of the statue. Afterward, the entire intimate group took more photos. We had become more a part of Florence’s history.
We were headed out the door when a woman in an evening gown and holding a microphone approached us, accompanied by a film crew.
Rocco clasped my hand, and she smiled as her gaze mused over us, speaking rapidly in both Italian and English. “Rocco Marini, I’m Teresa with Italy Live. Are you excited about the event this evening?”
“We both are. Anytime to celebrate is exciting. I’ve always been a lover of the arts and Florence. It’s a pleasure to continue to support the academy.”
“How’s married life?”
“Better than being unmarried.” He lifted my hand and kissed the back, and I let out a laugh.
“Adelina, will a baby come this spring?”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” I murmured under my breath.
Teresa’s eyes widened, and a big smile spread across her face.
I froze. Oh, no.
Rocco’s hand lightly squeezed mine. “She’s joking.”
“Uh, yes, I am,” I stammered.
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Marini. You heard it here first,” she said quickly before sprinting to the front entrance as if in an Olympic race.
Rocco then turned to me and groaned. “Adelina.”
My face heated. “I was caught up in the mood. Giddy, I guess,” I mumbled.
When I peered up at Rocco, he eyed me speculatively. “Hm…okay. Speaking to the press is a lot to get used to, but please, no more jokes. Isla?”
Her expression softened on me, then turned to Rocco. “Yes?”
“Release a statement that we have no plans to have children anytime soon.”